Mr Ziggles Goes To The Grocery Store
by RRatedauthor
Summary: A children's story with an adult twist.
1. Chapter 1

Mr. Ziggles Goes to the Grocery Store

It was a lovely sunny morning in Hollywood, Florida. Which made it real unfortunate that Mr. Ziggles was in San Francisco where it was raining.

"...I am perfection!" Mr. Ziggles' phone rang. He liked to hear his theme song which is why he had it everywhere... on his phone, his alarm clock, and even his iPod had seventy-two versions of it. Mr. Ziggles' had an inferiority complex. He needed to remind himself quite often how good looking he was.

"Hello, Mr. Ziggles," It was Mr. Morrison, Mr. Ziggles' best friend in the whole wide world. "how are you today?"

"I am perfection!" Mr. Ziggles responded, eliciting a small chuckle from the man on the other end.

"That's good. Mr. Mizanin and I are going to the grocery store and we were wondering if you'd like to join us?"

The grocery store... that sounded like a lot of fun. Mr. Ziggles loved shopping for things, whether they be melons, cucumbers, or even spinach. To go with two of his bestest friends would make the day even more special.

"We'll pick you up in ten minutes, Mr. Ziggles."

"I'll be ready, Mr. Morrison." Mr. Ziggles hung up the phone and danced around his room. Maybe today wasn't going to be so bad after all. He picked out a special "going to the grocery store" outfit and took his time getting dressed.

Since it was raining, Mr. Ziggles grabbed his umbrella. He didn't want rain getting his beautiful blond locks wet. He pranced out of his house and waited for his friends to arrive.

"Where are you off to?" Mr. Ziggles next-door neighbors, Mr. Michaels and Mr. H were talking on the sidewalk. Now Mr. Michaels and Mr. H were gay which meant that they liked cucumbers a lot more than they liked melons. Mr. Ziggles liked melons himself, but that didn't mean that he hated Mr. Michaels and Mr. H.

"I'm going to the grocery store." Mr. Ziggles announced proudly. "Mr. Morrison and Mr. Mizanin are picking me up."

Mr. H looked at Mr. Michaels. "That reminds me, we're out of cucumbers."

Mr. Michaels giggled. "I guess we'll have to go the grocery story as well."

"Why don't you come with me and Mr. Morrison and Mr. Mizanin?"

Mr. Michaels and Mr. H looked at each other, nodding their heads in agreement. "I'd like that Mr. Ziggles." Mr. Michaels smiled

Mr. H looked angry. Mr. H had problems cornering his anger and that made Mr. Ziggles sad. He didn't like people to be angry, especially those that carried around sledgehammers.

"I'll be right back." Mr. H went inside.

"This will be fun." Mr. Michaels bounced from foot to foot. "I like spending Mr. H's money."

"Did I hear someone talk about spending money?" Mr. Ziggles' other neighbor, Mr. Hardy, entered the conversation.

"We're all going to the grocery store." Mr. Michaels announced proudly.

"Awesome. Imma come too?"

"Of course." Mr. Ziggles stated, hoping that Mr. Morrison had enough room in his car for the six of them.

When Mr. Morrison and Mr. Mizanin arrived, they were informed that Mr. Michaels, Mr. H, and Mr. Hardy were coming to the grocery store with them.

"Cool." Mr. Mizanin replied "Well, get in and let's go."

The other four jumped into the back seat of Mr. Morrison's car. Mr. Michaels sat on Mr. H's lap, which made Mr. Ziggles a little uncomfortable. Thankfully Mr. Hardy was between them, and he didn't seem to mind.

They arrived at their local grocery store: "McMahon's", named after the founder, who as he always did, was standing outside the store greeting his loyal customers.

"Good morning, Mr. Ziggles. Welcome to McMahon's."

"Good morning, Mr. McMahon."

This interaction was repeated with Mr. Morrison, Mr. Mizanin, Mr. Michaels, Mr. H, and Mr. Hardy. Once the pleasantries were exchanged, they each got shopping carts and started to fill them. Mr. Ziggles was halfway down the aisle when he slapped his forehead. "Darn!" he exclaimed

"What's wrong, Mr. Ziggles?" The assistant manager, Mr. Ross asked. Mr. Ross was a very large man, not at all sexy like Mr. Ziggles, but Mr. Ross was very smart when it came to food.

"I forgot my list." Mr. Ziggles answered "Now I don't know what to buy."

"Might a suggest a side of Oklahoma ribs covered with Mr. Ross' barbecue sauce?"

Mr. Ziggles looked at Mr. Ross. "That sounds delicious." He said

"Freezer section is that way."

"Thank-you Mr. Ross." Mr Ziggles steered his cart toward the frozen meat section, bumping into Mr. Hardy on the way. He had filled his cart with Skittles, Pixie Stix, and other sweet things. Mr. Ziggles liked sweet things, but his mom had told him that too much sweet stuff would make his teeth fall out and then he wouldn't be liked by girls.

"Whee!" Mr. H spun his cart in circles. "Hiya, Mr. Ziggles! Shopping is fun!"

"Yes, it is." Mr. Ziggles swerved around Mr. Hardy and headed for the meat. On his way, he met a lady he was acquainted with.

"Good morning, Mr. Ziggles." She said

"Good morning, Miss Kanellis. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

Miss Kanellis laughed. "You're silly, Mr. Ziggles. It's raining out."

Mr. Ziggles also laughed. "I was being polite. My mommy told me to always be polite to girls you like."

A blush crept to Miss Kanellis' face. "I like you too Mr. Ziggles. Maybe we can go out sometime?"

Mr. Ziggles nodded. "I'd like that. I'll see you later. I have to finish my shopping."

"Okay. Have fun Mr. Ziggles."

"You too." Mr. Ziggles waved as he finally made it to the meat section, full of all kind of treats of every size, shape, and color.

"Uh-oh." There was one other person in the meat section: Mr. Gaspard. Mr. Ziggles did not like Mr. Gaspard because he sometimes took things that didn't belong to him. Mr. Gaspard was also taller and bigger than Mr. Ziggles, so Mr. Ziggles was a little scared of him.

"Yo, yo, yo, Ziggles... what's up, my man!" Mr. Gaspard patted Mr. Ziggles on the back.

"H-h-h-hello, Mr. Gaspard. What is up with you?"

"Nothing much. Just pickin' up a few things." While Mr. Ziggles watched, Mr. Gaspard took a tray of chicken legs, a ham, and a pound of ground beef and stuffed them into the baggy pants he wore.

Mr. Ziggles swallowed nervously, but said nothing.

"Anything I can grab for ya?" Mr. Gaspard asked

"N-no thank-you." Mr. Ziggles answered

"Okay, my man... keep it real." Without another word, Mr. Gaspard strolled out of the grocery store.

Mr. Ziggles grabbed the biggest slab of ribs he could find and went searching for the barbecue sauce. He found it in aisle six, where he met yet another one of his friends. Mr. Reso was scanning the labels, looking for something in particular.

"Excuse me." Mr. Ziggles squeezed in. Mr. Reso happened to be standing right in front of the sauce he was looking for.

"Well, hello. How's my main 'peep'?"

Now Mr. Ziggles wasn't exactly sure what a 'peep' was, but since Mr. Reso seemed to be happy, he assumed it was a good thing.

"Very good." Mr. Ziggles answered "And how are you?"

"Awesome." Mr. Reso stated "Can't decide which sauce to go with dinner, though."

"What are you having?"

"Mr. Copeland is cooking. He just said get some sauce."

Mr. Ziggles frowned. Mr. Copeland was not the best cook in the world, so the sauce was usually the most important part of any dinner he made.

"Mr. Ross suggested this." He showed Mr. Reso what he'd picked out.

Mr. Reso scanned the label. "Strong flavor... good, that's what I need. Thank-you very much Mr. Ziggles." Whether by accident or on purpose, he put the bottle that Mr. Ziggles had intended to buy for himself in his own cart and wheeled away. Mr. Ziggles just shrugged and grabbed another bottle for himself.

The next aisle was full of things Mr. Ziggles liked to eat, and Mr. Morrison too. His cart was almost empty, yet he'd been in the store for exactly the same amount of time as Mr. Ziggles.

"Having fun, Mr. Morrison?"

"Shhhh, Mr. Ziggles." Mr. Morrison whispered "She'll hear you."

"Who?"

"That cute check-out girl." Mr. Morrison pointed to the lady running the express line.

"That's Miss McCool." Mr. Ziggles answered helpfully. "I think she's taken though."

"Taken? By who?"

"Mr. Callaway, the butcher." Mr. Ziggles said

"You mean the big guy with all the tattoos?" Mr. Morrison's face darkened at this new information.

"Yes. I hear he doesn't like people checking out his checkout girl. Rumor has it the last person who did that became a rump roast."

Mr. Morrison swallowed nervously.

"I'm kidding about the rump roast." Mr. Ziggles laughed, while Mr. Morrison tried to pretend that he knew it was a joke.

"Oh well." He sighed "I'm off to the produce section."

"I think it was ground chuck." Mr. Ziggles turned toward the canned food section. On his way, he passed the dairy case and picked up two liters of chocolate milk and some Triple Chocolate ice cream, his only weaknesses.

Turning the corner, now in the produce section, he watched Mr. Michaels and Mr. H have a sword fight with two large cucumbers in one part, while Mr. Mizanin filmed it all on his phone.

Mr. Ziggles also watched.

"Can I get through please?" Mr. Ziggles pushed his cart to one side to allow access by Mr. Bourne, one of the stock boys.

"Thank-you."

Mr. Ziggles turned his attention from Mr. Michaels and Mr. H to Mr. Bourne. He could not take his eyes off the muscular young man. There was something alluring about him, and it had nothing to do with the way he was stacking tomatoes.

"See something you like, Ziggles?" It was Mr. Michaels. He'd finished his battle with Mr. H and Mr. Mizanin was showing him the fight scene across the aisle.

"Uh, no..." Mr. Ziggles stuttered

"Sure looks that way to me." Mr. Michaels was very open about his life, not that there is anything wrong with that. "Just go talk to him."

"Mr. Michaels... what are you saying? That I'm..."

"I ain't sayin' nothin." Mr. Michaels replied, walking away.

Mr. Ziggles continued to watch Mr. Bourne stack tomatoes, then move on to carrots, potatoes, and radishes. Every time he stretched to stock higher up, his shirt raised up, revealing tanned skin and causing Mr. Ziggles' heart to pound faster.

"Are you almost ready to go?" Mr. Morrison shouted across the floor.

Mr. Ziggles turned his head, nodding agreement. He joined them at the check-out and couldn't help hearing the giggles from Mr. Michaels and Mr. H.

They paid for their groceries and returned to Mr. Ziggles' home. The rain had stopped and the sun was shining.

"That was fun, Mr. Ziggles." Mr. Morrison said

"I enjoyed myself, Mr. Morrison."

Once everyone had said their goodbyes, the car drove off. Mr. Ziggles could feel Mr. Michaels' gaze upon him as he walked inside and he was sure that by morning, the entire street would hear that he'd been ogling a stock boy at McMahon's.

While he was putting his groceries away, Mr. Ziggles realized that he had forgotten to get potatoes. He'd been so busy staring at the boy stacking them, he'd neglected to pick some up. And ribs by themselves wasn't much of a dinner.

"Looks I have to go back." Mr. Ziggles said and found that he was looking forward to it as much as the first trip.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Ziggles walked back outside. The rain had stopped and the sun was shining.

"Going somewhere again?" Mr. Michaels was taking out the garbage.

"I forgot to get potatoes. I have to go back to the grocery store." Mr. Ziggles replied

Mr. Michaels raised his eyebrow. "If that's all you need, I can loan you a few."

"Thank-you, but I don't want to be a burden." Normally not one to turn down free potatoes, but Mr. Ziggles definitely wanted to see Mr. Bourne again. He was unsure exactly why, but he hoped that if he did, he could answer the question as to whether he was turning into a cucumber fiend or if he still was a melon-man.

"It's not a problem... Mr. H just bought a huge bag of them..."

"Uhhh, but there's something else I needed." Mr. Ziggles lied.

"Okay." Mr. Michaels didn't press it. After all, he'd met Mr. H at a bar. "Have fun."

Whistling "I am perfection", Mr. Ziggles drove back to the grocery store. He hoped that he wasn't too late to get his potatoes and maybe see Mr. Bourne again.

Once more, he pulled into the parking lot of McMahon's grocery store. Mr. Ziggles frowned upon looking at the entrance. Instead of the jovial face of Mr. McMahon, he saw the angry face of Mr. Lawson, Mr. McMahon's new head of security. Mr. Ziggles did not like Mr. Lawson, and neither did any of Mr. Ziggles' friends.

Mr. Lawson's job was to make sure that no one left the store without paying for their groceries. Thankfully, Mr. Gaspard was nowhere in sight because there were rumors about what Mr. Lawson did to people he caught stealing and they were not very pleasant.

"Hello, Mr. Lawson."

"Ziggles." Mr. Lawson grunted "Don't let me catch you stealin' anything."

"I would never take anything without paying for it." Mr. Ziggles swallowed nervously. "I just need some potatoes for my dinner tonight."

"I'm watching you." To make his point, Lawson stared at Mr. Ziggles until he was inside the store.

The store had fewer people inside so it was easier for Mr. Ziggles to grab his potatoes and pay for them. He'd wandered the store, hoping to see Mr. Bourne, but alas he was nowhere in sigh. He was sad because he had wanted to talk to him again.

He was just passing the entrance when he heard Mr. Calaway, the butcher, talking to Miss McCool.

"I sent Mr. Bourne to get those steaks for our dinner." He said "He should be back soon if he knows what is good for him."

"Oh, Mr. Calaway, why must you always be so mean?" Miss McCool sighed

"Because I have an image to uphold."

Mr. Ziggles' heart skipped a beat. Hoping he wasn't going to look too anxious, he stepped outside and waited for the object of his confusion to emerge from the market. The five pound bag of potatoes suddenly felt a lot heavier and Mr. Ziggles almost dropped it when he heard the swoosh of the sliding door opening.

"It's about time, Bourne. When Miss McCool sends you for something, I shouldn't have to ask you as well." Mr. Calaway towered almost a foot over Mr. Bourne.

"Yessir." Mr. Bourne looked like he was going to tinkle in his khaki pants.

Mr. Ziggles would normally have stood up for the smaller man, but he was also afraid of Mr. Calaway. Put a man with a short temper together with a job where he was allowed to handle sharp objects and that spelled trouble.

"Just remember that, Bourne." Calaway and McCool locked arms and strolled to Mr. Calaway's monster truck.

Mr. Bourne watched them leave, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

"That wasn't very nice of him." Mr. Ziggles noticed Mr. Lawson staring at them both with distrust, as if they were discussing how to walk out of McMahon's with cantaloupes stuffed into their pockets. "Why do you let him do that to you?"

"'Coz if I don't, he said he'd get McMahon to fire me." Bourne's shoulders started to twitch.

"You want me to deal with that motherfucker Calaway?"

Both Ziggles and Bourne turned. Had they really heard what they'd thought they'd just heard? For a moment, they both couldn't believe their ears. Mr. Lawson had worked for Mr. McMahon for several months and, to Mr. Bourne's knowledge, this was the first time he'd tried to strike up a conversation with anyone he worked with. He usually looked like he wanted to kill his co-workers rather than talk to them.

Mr. Lawson looked at Bourne and Ziggles. "Don't look so motherfuckin' shocked."

"S-S-sorry, Mr. Lawson. It's just th-that you've never said two words to me before." Mr. Bourne looked more anxious now that when Mr. Calaway was threatening him.

"It don't happen often." Lawson shrugged "But I don't like to see idiots like that push people around."

"Thank you for the k... offer." Mr. Bourne almost said 'kind', but somehow that word and Mr. Lawson didn't seem to go together real well. "But I'll talk to Mr. McMahon tomorrow."

Mr. Lawson shrugged again. He knew that Mr. McMahon was also scared of Mr. Calaway. A firing was definitely not gonna happen if Mr. McMahon wanted to continue breathing. "Just throwin' it out there. You off-shift, Bourne?"

"Yeah." Bourne definitely looked like he wanted to be somewhere else.

"You know the drill. Today is your lucky day."

Mr. Ziggles soon found out what that meant. Mr. McMahon's security protocol included random employee searches, conducted by Mr. Lawson. Mr. Ziggles watched while Mr. Bourne was quickly patted down. He giggled childishly when the hands of the security guard passed over his special place, and even louder when they paused to squeeze. Mr. Ziggles started wondering if those hands could one day be his, but quickly turned his thoughts to dinner when he started to go hard.

"You're clean." Lawson concluded his search.

It was now or never. "Uhm..." Mr Ziggles cleared his throat. "I was wondering... you see, I have all these extra potatoes and..." He knew the blood was rushing to his face and wondered for a moment if it was possible for the human head to explode from embarrassment. "...would you be interested in having dinner with me?"

"Mr. Ziggles, are you asking me for a date?" Mr. Bourne squeaked

"Well, not exactly. I'm pretty sure I like melons..." Staring at his feet definitely became his new favorite sport.

"Oh. I don't." Mr. Bourne replied "And I would be happy to have some potatoes with you." The way he said potatoes made it clear he was expecting that to be the entire meal.

"Oh, no! I have steak and other good things to eat as well."

"I like eating meat." Mr. Bourne answered

Another X-rated vision went through Mr. Ziggles' head. Mr. Ziggles really needed to get a little action so these visions wouldn't cause such an inappropriate reaction in certain parts of his body. "I know." He answered quickly.

"What time do you eat?"

"By the time I get home and get everything ready, it will be an hour or two."

"Okay. I will go home and get changed and then I will meet you for dinner, okay?"

"Okay." Mr. Ziggles' eyes lit up when Mr. Bourne officially agreed to their dinner date. "Here's my address." He scribbled it on the back of his potato receipt. "I can't wait."

Mr. Bourne and Mr. Ziggles walked to their cars for the drive to their homes.

It felt like the tires never touched the ground the entire way home for Mr. Ziggles. He pulled into the driveway and to his surprise, Mr. Michaels was still outside. He's long-since taken out the garbage and now he was washing his car.

"I see you got your potatoes." Mr. Michaels noted.

"Yes. Thank you for the offer of some of your own, though. It was rather nice of you."

"No problem, Mr. Ziggles. Mr. H isn't much of a potato eater unless they're from McDonald's."

"I don't mean to be rude, but I must go start dinner. I am having a guest over."

Mr. Michaels raised his eyebrows and whistled seductively. "Mr. Ziggles, you sly dog! Hey, Mr. H... Ziggles hooked up with someone!"

Mr. H stuck his head through an open ground floor window. "Hot damn, Ziggles! It's about time! Who's the lucky babe?"

"Well, actually..." Mr. Ziggles pretended to find something interesting in the brickwork of the house belonging to Michaels and H.

"That's not nice! If Ziggles wants to tell us who he's gonna shack up with, he will. It's none of our business anyway." Mr. Michaels scolded his boyfriend.

From his hurt expression, Mr. H didn't like being talked to like that. "Fine." He sulked "That thing we do once a week... you can do it by yourself this time!" Slamming the window loudly, he ended his part of the conversation quite emphatically.

Mr. Michaels shrugged. "Whatever. I hope whoever she is, she makes you happy."

"Uhm, Mr. Michaels... you've got it wrong." If there was anyone he felt he could talk to about what was going through his mind, it was Mr. M.

"Oh? Just how wrong do I have it?"

"It's Mr. Bourne. And I think he might like me the same way you and Mr. H like each other." Mr. Ziggles' face was turning that embarrassing shade or red again, he could feel it.

"Do you need some advice?" Mr. Michaels took Mr. Ziggles by the shoulder and walked him around the side of the house, away from any possible commentary from certain other persons.

"I mean, I'm not sure if he does, but he admitted that he likes meat instead of melons. Plus he seemed to enjoy being touched, y'know..."

"South of the border?" Mr. Michaels turned his head slightly.

Mr. Ziggles blushed even further. His face was such a dark red that he felt feverish.

"Look, the only advice I can give you is be yourself. Don't try to force anything. If you and Mr. Bourne are meant to be together, then you'll be together. If not, there's always that guy down the street."

"Mr. Jacobs? He's scary though."

"Yeah, but I hear he's loaded." Mr. Michaels looked down the street and Mr. Jacobs' house... the largest on the block.

"Money isn't everything, Mr. Michaels." Mr. Ziggles replied

"But it helps." Mr. Michaels answered "Trust me."

"Thank-you, Mr. Michaels." Mr. Ziggles responded

"Anytime. If you need any more advice, just stop by. I'll try to keep Mr. H from being more of an idiot than he was today." Mr. Michaels began to hose off his car.

Mr. Ziggles walked back inside, humming "I am perfection" under his breath. He dropped the bag of potatoes on the kitchen counter, next to the steaks. He had no idea where tonight would lead him, but hopefully it would turn out to be 'perfection'.


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Lawson was even more irritated than usual as he prepared to leave McMahon's after his shift. Three days had passed since he'd caught a shoplifter and been able to mete out his favorite form of punishment. If he didn't catch someone trying to stuff a salami in their shorts soon, then he was going to have a meltdown.

He stepped outside and soon realized that his night was definitely going to get better. Standing at the entrance to the alley than separated the grocery store from the liquor store next door were four young men, all wearing green tracksuits. He recognized them as Kenny, Johnny, Mitch, and Mikey... members of an Irish street gang called the SS. Exactly what SS stood for, Mr. Lawson didn't know or care. All that mattered was their presence. He had wanted to get his hands on them ever since his youngest boy had come home crying because they had taken his ice cream.

In less time than it takes to properly spell 'shillelagh', Mr. Lawson had his massive arm draped around the throat of one of them. Kenny, obviously, by the green lettering that ran down the right sleeve of his jacket. The other three took off immediately, leaving Kenny to vainly attempt his own escape.

"Keep struggling and I'll snap your neck like a chicken." Mr. Lawson growled in Kenny's ear. "Shut the fuck up and you may get out of here alive."

He dragged Kenny back into the grocery store, past aisles of food and more than one shopper. No one seemed too concerned about what was going, nor did anyone offer to help Kenny. No surprise there. Mr. Lawson's reputation preceded him.

He kicked open the door to his office and threw Kenny inside. Following the young man, he locked them both in.

"Look, man, I dunno who the fuck you think you are, but I ain't got no problem with you."

_Irish, my ass. This guy is about as Irish as my shit. _Mr. Lawson laughed loudly. The young man's accent was as far removed from Ireland as possible.

"I can see why they don't let you talk much." Mr. Lawson pushed him into a chair and sat down on his desk, facing Kenny. "But now's your chance to explain to me where you got the stones to think you could get off on picking on my boy."

"Your boy... I don't..."

Mr. Lawson grabbed Kenny by the front of his jacket, lifting him out of his seat with such force that the jacket ripped and Kenny fell back into the chair. He stared at the torn garment with as much interest as he would have for a discarded snakeskin before throwing it toward the garbage can in the corner of the room.

"Don't fuckin' lie to me or I will feed parts of you to my son's dog and leave the rest for Mr. Calaway to put in tomorrow's rump roast. You attacked my son outside Erik's maison de creme glace, (Mr. Lawson's french was terrible, so it came out sounding like 'My Sunday cream glaze.') and stole his ice cream."

"Sir, I swear to you I had nothing to do with it." Kenny shrieked, which was, surprisingly, the truth. He'd met the other three shortly after and hadn't bothered to ask where the cookies 'n creme had come from. He'd assumed they'd stolen it, but from inside the store and most certainly not from the kid of this monster.

"You'd better not be lying to me."

"I'm not. Promise." Kenny replied

"Don't move a fucking inch." With his eyes still focused on the terrified man in front of him, Mr. Lawson reached into his pocket for his phone.

Kenny was too scared to do anything other than focus on not going wee-wee in his pants at that moment.

"Connor... it's Dad... I need to ask you a question... oh, he is? Well, tell your brother to stop being a meanie... no, not right now... this is important... dammit, boy, do you want ice cream or not?" Mr. Lawson suddenly moved his phone away from his ear. Even Kenny could hear a scream on the other end.

"Thank-you very much, I am now totally deaf... again!"

Listening to the conversation, Kenny started thinking about a possible escape, but apparently so did Mr. Lawson.

"Don't even think about it." He mouthed "Connor, when those bad men took your ice cream..." He rolled his eyes when the person on the other end interrupted. "...yes, and scared Snoopy, how many were there... three or four?"

A pause that seemed forever followed. Kenny's heart was thumping louder than a bass drum.

"Three. Are you sure?" A brief look of disappointment flashed across Mr. Lawson's face. Kenny sighed. He wasn't out of trouble yet, but the light at the end of the tunnel had brightened considerably.

"I'll be home soon... yes, cookies 'n creme, I know." Mr. Lawson hung up the phone and stared at Kenny.

"Now do you believe me?" Kenny was still shaking.

"Not really. My boy isn't the brightest bulb on the marquee, so maybe his numbers got a little jumbled." Mr. Lawson jumped off his desk to tower over Kenny. "So, I'm feeling generous today so I'm going to let you live for now. But before you go, two things are going to happen."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mr. Lawson's cold steel gaze was back. "The first thing is you are going to agree to bring one of your buddies to a place of my choosing tomorrow night, and the two nights to follow so I may deal with them personally. I don't necessarily believe that you are completely innocent, so this is your chance to prove me wrong."

"What's the second thing?" If it meant selling out Mitch, Johnny, and Mikey to save his own skin, Kenny had no problem.

"You're gonna take those pants off, bend over my desk, and let me have a go at that tight ass of yours." With a dirty grin on his face, Mr. Lawson cracked his knuckles.

"You're fuckin' crazy, man!" Kenny quickly stood up.

"I may be." To Mr. Lawson, crazy was a compliment. "But right now, I don't see how you have any choice."

"Oh yeah..." Kenny ran for the door, forgetting that it was locked. Mr. Lawson watched him struggle to open it, laughing to himself as he stalked Kenny. Just as Kenny finally had the lock worked, Mr. Lawson reached him. He yanked the door open at the same time Mr. Lawson snagged the back of his tearaway pants. He ran back into the store but stopped when he realized that everyone was staring at him.

"Nothing to see here folks." Mr. Lawson had managed to rip the pants from him just before he got out of the office. "Well, maybe there is, but..." Kenny's face was now dark red, a contrast from the white wifebeater and bikini briefs that was all that he was wearing. He tossed Kenny back into the office and closed the door behind him, once more securing it.

"Up against the desk... now!" Any joking around was gone. "And spread 'em!"

...

"I am perfection!" Mr. Ziggles hummed to himself, marinating the meat he'd bought earlier. To the side, the potatoes were already peeled, waiting for the pot of water to boil and a plate of freshly-cut mixed vegetables also awaited their turn. This was not the first time Mr. Ziggles' had a man over for a meal, but he still wanted everything to be perfect. It had nothing to do with the debate between melons and cucumbers that seemed to be going on endlessly inside his mind. Mr. Ziggles liked to be a good host.

He left the food soaking in the sauce and turned his attention to the fridge. Inside it were several bottles of beer, a couple of wine, and a selection of non-alcoholic drinks. Mr. Ziggles was old enough to raise his wrist whenever he liked, but Mr. Bourne looked young enough not to. Hence the Pepsi.

As he sliced the last of the vegetables, his mind went back to Mr. Bourne's encounter with Mr. Lawson. Apparently Mr. Bourne liked that kind of attention, and with Mr. Ziggles' feelings toward Mr. Bourne trying to head in that direction, things could definitely get interesting.

Now, whistling "I am perfection", he carried the rib steaks out to his barbecue. Mr. Bourne would be arriving shortly, he hoped, and then the fun could begin.

_I just hope Mr. Lawson doesn't want Mr. Bourne... nah, he was just doing his job. _

...

Kenny gritted his teeth as he felt the rough hands of Mr. Lawson trace across the back of his legs and up his thighs. He'd tried to resist, but his attempts were useless. He was now completely bent over the desk, his face buried in the blotter as his captor became better acquainted with his body below the waist. The longer this went on, the less loyalty Kenny felt to his fellow-gang members. After all, it was their deed that got him into this mess and if they had to die so he didn't, well that was just fine with him.

He inhaled sharply when the fingers danced across his smooth butt cheeks, playing with the material that covered his crack for a moment before sliding up to his waist.

"This won't hurt... much." Mr. Lawson breathed into Kenny's ear, sliding his fingers into the waistband and slowly pushing it down, his big hands curling around his hips to tease the flesh hanging in front.

Kenny bit his lower lip to stop from whimpering at the not unpleasant touches. The last thing he wanted was to make this monster think that he was actually enjoying the ordeal.

Making a circle out of his thumb and index finger, Mr. Lawson drew the excess skin back, revealing a plum-shaped head already glistening like a freshly-licked lollipop. When his middle finger rubbed deliciously over the tip, smearing the liquid across the sensitive skin even more, Kenny let out a moan... and immediately knew that he was enjoying this, and worse of all, Mr. Lawson knew that he was enjoying it as well.

"In my job, it's results that matter, not how I get them." Mr. Lawson whispered into Kenny's ear. "As you're about to find out."

Kenny arched back as the fingers continued to play with him while the briefs were pulled the rest of the way down to his ankles. Through the current of pleasure that was going through him, his mind didn't register the sound of a zipper opening, nor the feeling of something long and hard pressing against his crack until it was too late.

"Never fuck with a Lawson or you may end up getting fucked by a Lawson." With a grunt, he pushed inside.

_Oh fuck..._ The sudden pain was too much and he passed out.

...

The ribs were cooking nicely, the vegetables and potatoes were both boiling away, and all that was missing was Mr. Bourne. For not the first time, Mr. Ziggles looked at the clock. This seemed to be the longest two hours of his life. He'd hoped that Mr. Bourne would arrive early so they could get to know each other before the food was ready.

His heart thumped when he heard the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Bourne, and he was carrying a white cardboard box.

"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Ziggles. I bought dessert."

"That is okay, Mr. Bourne. Dinner won't be ready for a while." Mr. Ziggles took the box and placed it on the kitchen counter, ignoring the temptation to see what sweet treat had been brought. "Make yourself at home."

"Thank-you, Mr. Ziggles." The sound of a body dropping onto the couch sent Mr. Ziggles thoughts running rampant.

_Remember what Mr. Michaels said... don't try to force it._ _If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen... just make tonight perfection._

"Perfection." Mr. Ziggles whispered "That's what I am."


End file.
